


Drunken Confessions

by DarknessBreathing (Breath4Soul)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angry John, Attempted Seduction, BAMF John, BAMF John Watson, Captain John Watson, Drunk John, Drunk Sherlock, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post Mary, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Gets It Wrong, Sherlock Wants John, that escalated quickly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7571974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breath4Soul/pseuds/DarknessBreathing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>John and Sherlock get drunk and things go from silly to hot and serious quite quickly.</b>
</p><blockquote>
  <p><br/>“What are we talking about here?” John studies that familiar yet still exquisitely unique face with interest. A slightly predatory smile is taking over his mouth and a heat is in his eyes as they drop to take in Sherlock’s lips; full, plump and flushed darker from the alcohol in his system.</p>
  <p>“Yes,” Sherlock drawls. John’s eyes flick back up to the green-blue rimmed dark wells Sherlock's eyes have become, nearly all pupil. He lifts his eyebrows. </p>
  <p>“And?” John lets the desire show in his eyes as he runs them over the suit-clad, long and lean figure.  </p>
  <p>“Yes.” Sherlock says his voice dropping to an even deeper and more sultry tone. “If you are amenable,” he adds with a crooked smile that says he knows just how interested John is.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Confessions

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [23emotions](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/23emotions) collection. 



“I think you know me too well, John.” Sherlock slumps back in his chair, glass in hand, his eyes heavy and glazed with too much alcohol as he stares at John.

“I am not sure what that means.” John's shrug is slow. His tongue runs along his bottom lip, tasting the sharp and sweet of liquor there, as he settles lower in his own chair.

“You know me. Know it _all_ … and I kind of - kind of grew up under you.”

“Under me?” John snorts stretching his sock-clad feet out to rest on his companion's chair.

“Psst!” Sherlock shrugs “Around… Through… With - the point is -” Sherlock leans forward squinting and pointing with his glass clutching hand. “ You can't _see me_ ,” he slurs. 

John squints a moment then laughs.

“I see you, Sherlock,” John leans forward with a pointed finger. “You're… right… _there_ …” He aims to touch Sherlock's nose in a playful bop, he misses and mashes his finger into the corner of his lip. This sets off a round of giggles for John. 

The younger man absently presses two fingers to his lips where he can still feel the heat of John's touch and sits back with his brow furrowed. He looks up at John and points his glass at him again

“I'm being serious,” he grumbles.

“Oh. Right. Serious.” John makes an obvious effort to straighten himself and smooth his face. 

“I'm not _him,_ John… I'm not the me I was when this all started.” Sherlock makes a loose armed gesture to encompass everything. 

John hums thoughtfully, but he doesn’t really understand. He is trying not to think about his finger mashing against Sherlock’s lips and the surprised expression the detective made. It is making him grin.

“Pay attention, John.”

“Right.” John blinks at the dark haired man in front of him, a lopsided grin sliding onto his face. “Mmmm… So… you're saying… I have seen _so much_ of you that I don't _see you_.” John waves his glass around dramatically.

“Meta- metaphorically speaking.” Sherlock nods slowly in confirmation.

John’s gold and silver head bobs. He leans forward pressing his lips together and looks up at Sherlock from under his blond lashes.

“Right. So what - what’d’ya propose we do ‘bout _that?_ ” 

“Hmmm…” Sherlock tilts his head back, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully, exposing the long column of his neck. John looks it over and sighs. Being inebriated always makes it harder to stave off those stray thoughts about lips on porcelain skin, hot and wet, the friction and glide of two bodies. 

He actually startles when he realizes Sherlock is looking at him again. His brow furrowed until the little bump has formed between his eyebrows. That is the expression he always wears when baffled and trying to read John’s mind. It makes the doctor smile, because nothing feels quite so amazing as having been the one to stump Sherlock Holmes.

“Two bodies?” Sherlock inquires puzzled. 

_Shit. Said that out loud!_

“Who are you then?” John can only hope his companion is as piss drunk as he is and will allow the diversion. Sherlock blinks. He leans forward and it is not until that moment that John realizes that he had somehow managed to lean so far forward while his mind had gone astray that he is perched right on the edge of his chair. He is keenly aware of it now because with both of them leaning into the space between their chairs, they are made intimately close and the room suddenly feels unaccountably hot.

“I'm not the same person that turned you down at Angelo's,” Sherlock whispers, like it is a secret, his deep, blue-green eyes soaking in the fire light. “I was fresh out of rehab... young and scared, and I knew I couldn't handle you.”

“And you can now?” The words slip out of John's mouth before he even realizes how dangerous they are; the alcohol making him brazen, bold and dumb to the consequences. It is spoken in a hushed tone with a challenging smile.

“Hmmm…” Sherlock’s grin is dangerous and his eyes are hungry. “I think I might like to try.” John can’t help but mirror the grin on his companion’s face. The sly smile that says that they are probably about to do something terribly stupid and dangerous but, if they survive, they will be laughing about it in the end.

“What are we talking about here?” John studies that familiar yet still exquisitely unique face with interest. A slightly predatory smile is taking over his mouth and a heat is in his eyes as they drop to take in Sherlock’s lips; full, plump and flushed darker from the alcohol in his system.

“Yes,” Sherlock drawls. John’s eyes flick back up to the green-blue rimmed dark wells Sherlock's eyes have become, nearly all pupil. He lifts his eyebrows. 

“And?” John lets the desire show in his eyes as he runs them over the suit-clad, long and lean figure. 

“Yes.” Sherlock says his voice dropping to an even deeper and more sultry tone. “If you are amenable,” he adds with a crooked smile that says he knows just how interested John is.

John goes still a moment, his gaze blazing with an inner heat. Sherlock leans forward, lips parting slightly in invitation or anticipation of what he sees playing out in John’s head.

Then the doctor suddenly flops back in his chair with a giggle. “You’re drunk,” John laughs. “Had me goin’ too, you right bastard… Should have known better…” He picks up his drink and takes a big gulp, pointing it at Sherlock. His eyes have gone dull and docile again. “ _I know you._ ” 

Sherlock growls, leaning back.

“You think you do,” grumbles the younger man, darkly. He swigs the last of his drink and sets the glass down with a hard thunk that makes John stop laughing and pay attention, vaguely aware that Sherlock is agitated. “I have just been saying to you, John. You really _don’t_ see... What is it going to take then? Set myself on fire? Strip naked? Well, I did do that, didn’t I? In the palace, no less! In front of my brother,” Sherlock stands up now. He unbuttons and takes off his jacket, throwing it on the seat. He faces the fireplace as his fingers work over the buttons on his shirt, surprisingly swiftly.

“I have been blatant. Only an idiot would not see, and you are certainly _not_ an idiot, John. Not in this area-” As Sherlock’s shirt starts to fall open and recognition of what his companion is doing finally registers, John leans forward in his seat suddenly very sober and looking around rapidly as if he must have missed something.

“Shit. Sherlock, what are you…?” 

“Proving a point,” Sherlock says turning towards John as he strips off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor, and his hands immediately go for his belt. 

“Christ,” John leaps to his feet, his hands closing over Sherlock’s holding them in place on his trousers. “What?... Just, _what_?” John’s breathing is heavy, his eyes wide and pleading, his hands trembling slightly over top of Sherlock’s are gripping crushingly tight. John gives a tight shake of his head. They stand there for a moment staring at each other and breathing hard.

“Oh... you’re _afraid_ …” Sherlock says slowly as he gazes down into those dark blue eyes. He can’t help the surprise in his tone. “Of all the things to frighten the war-hardened, ex-army doctor, you are afraid of _this_ with _me_ … Why?” Sherlock inquires tilting his head. 

John opens his mouth and closes it again. He tries once more, then snaps it shut with more force. They stare at each other a long moment, the heat and the tension fizzling in the air. John glances down at his hands over top of Sherlock’s so near his groin. He clears his throat, but seems unable or unwilling to let go. 

“I know you want this,” Sherlock says in a deep, rumbly voice, stepping closer so their hands are pinned between their waists. “I am sure you believe I am oblivious to such things but I know you fantasize about me - about us. I see the looks - the hungry stares.” Sherlock’s bare chest presses to John’s clothed chest. John shudders faintly but doesn’t move away. “You have been waiting for a clear signal,” Sherlock says in a velvety voice, leaning forward so his hot breath gusts across John's ear. “Go ahead John. Make your move.”

“No,” John grits out. The muscles in his cheeks jumping from how tightly he is keeping it clenched shut.

“It’s willful ignorance then… You don’t _want to_ see me. Is it easier... To be martyr holding a flame for the high functioning sociopath that doesn’t do _that_ and doesn’t feel things _that way?_ ” Sherlock turns so his breath ghosts over John’s lips. “I never took you for a coward, John Watson.”

“I’m not-”

“Prove it,” Sherlock growls. He flexes his hands beneath John’s. John swallows roughly.

“You don’t understand-”

“Then make me.” Sherlock grins dangerously. A little sound like a growl catches in John’s throat at that and he blinks slowly. 

“No,” John says slower, more threatening.

“What is it then?” Sherlock presses relentlessly. “No Mrs. Watson anymore, John. No girlfriend. No one to betray. Haven't dated for a while. In fact you are quite sexually frustrated.” Sherlock emphasizes this with a slight twist of his hips that brushes the front of their trousers together enough to demonstrate the aroused state they are both in. John bites back on a sound caught in his throat, and his jaw flexes and his grip on Sherlock’s hands tighten.

“No,” John breathes.

“Afraid of being judged by others then? Ridiculous. Why should you care, John? They are already judging you. It is _assumed_. They have insisted we are a couple for years. Even you have realized how ineffectual the denials are. You have stopped trying to correct them.” John gives a tight shake of his head and looks down and away.

“What are you afraid of John,” Sherlock persists crowding John back until he falls into his chair. His refusal to release Sherlock’s hands dragging the taller man with him who brakes away to move his hands to the back of the chair so his arms cage John’s head as he leans down over him. “What is it?” He hisses his demand through gritted teeth.

“I'm afraid of _me_ , Sherlock,” John snaps lifting his chin to meet Sherlock’s challenging stare with a fierce glare. He grabs Sherlock by the upper arms and there is more than a little Captain Watson in his tone, which makes Sherlock shiver. “And if you're not then you bloody well _should be_ because I don't know who I will be - who I will become... I have never wanted - _needed_ \- anyone or anything so much in my life - down to my very bones - and it's locked away right now - _starved of oxygen_ \- but if you open that door, Sherlock... It's a goddamn _flash fire_ waiting to happen - a backdraft that will just roar out and devour everything... I will consume you, Sherlock - until there is nothing left of you or me” John's eyes are blazing, his words heavy with conviction and warning.

“I will _not_ stop. I won't be able to. I will want - _need_ \- it all. Every part of you, in every way - non-stop until we grind each other to dust. I will ravage that body, fill every fuckin corner of your gigantic mind palace with me. I won't stop until I have seared the name John Watson like a brand on your very soul.” His voice pitches lower and his eyes go darker.

“And if you feel even a fraction of what I feel for you… that might even be _worse_ … You're the fucking scientist, Sherlock, figure it out. We are two highly volatile and unstable elements... you put us together and… _total devastation_ … the whole bloody world might just crack in two!” John is shaking, every muscle held taut with restraint of passion. He lets go of Sherlock's arms with a slight shove that makes Sherlock stumble backwards a step. 

Sherlock straightens up and takes another step back. His eyes sweep over John assessingly, as if he is seeing him for the first time. 

John abruptly rises to his feet. He takes a step in Sherlock's direction. His whole frame is held in sharp military lines that speak of the power to inflict incalculable damage only held in check by a will of steel. Sherlock has never seen anything half as appetizing or intriguing as John in this moment. He finds his own body reacting suprisingly. He is panting as his eyes slide to half-lidded. He can feel his heart racing like the thrill of a good chase or the anticipation he used to have before he took a hit.

“See there... you were right the first time,” John snarls. “You can't handle this.” John turns and marches upstairs to his room leaving Sherlock standing in front of the fire, staring in lustful awe after him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thinking of making this a chapter story... The things that happen when the boys get drunk... If you are on board let me know what you like and where you'd like it to go!
> 
> **It's a big, crowded, lonely world. Your comments and kudos make me feel a little more loved and connected. If you enjoyed this please let me know! ******


End file.
